


Afterlife

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: run_the_con, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal wakes up in the hospital to an unexpected visitor at his bedside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/profile)[**run_the_con**](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/) [Lightning Round](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/18448.html) for [](http://winterstar95.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://winterstar95.livejournal.com/)**winterstar95** 's prompt "after life."

The first thing Neal knew was that wherever he was, it was very bright. He could see the red glow of light through his eyelids, but he wasn't quite ready to open them. He heard somebody breathing nearby and a faint, irregular tapping sound, and beyond that other noises that could have been street sounds or a TV. He inhaled through his nose to get some more clues about where he was, and just as the antiseptic smell told him _hospital_ the air stung him inside and a cough tore through his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed, tried to still his breaths, but the coughs came in jagged, relentless waves.

As focused as he was on the tearing pain in his chest, Neal heard voices and felt the soft touch of a hand on his arm. Then the bed under him moved to tilt him upright, something was on his face, and medicine-tasting air filled his mouth and nose. He shook his head helplessly, trying to pull away, but then suddenly the next cough didn't come and he could breathe real air. As the pain dulled to a heavy throbbing Neal opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness of the room.

"Give him a minute, honey," somebody said, and Neal blinked until he could focus, expecting to see Elizabeth Burke sitting at his bedside because he couldn't think of anybody else in his life who would likely be called 'honey' by what sounded like a middle-aged nurse. He wasn't entirely clear on what had brought him to the hospital, but he had the vague idea that it had something to do with a case, a dock behind an old warehouse. Peter was probably still working on closing the case, so it made sense that Elizabeth would be keeping him company, but as his vision cleared Neal saw coppery red hair and hazel eyes.

"Sara?" Neal winced at the dry, rough sound of his voice, and tried to swallow to clear his throat.

"You asshole." Sara grabbed at a cup sitting on the table next to the bed and roughly bent the straw then held it out toward Neal. Her hand shook, and Neal would have taken the cup from her if he thought he had the strength to hold it at all. As it was, the effort to sit forward a few inches to pull the straw into his mouth left him trembling, but it was worthwhile for the icy water that soothed his throat.

"Thanks," Neal said, his voice closer to normal though still rough. When he let himself rest back against the mattress again, Sara put the cup down and shook her head.

"I'm serious, you are an asshole." Sara turned her back to him, and Neal realized that she was wearing a _hoodie_. "I'm really not the kind of woman who holds bedside vigils, you understand? But Peter called me, and suddenly I was at Heathrow. And I didn't even have any luggage! I didn't even have any extra clothes!" She turned around, and Neal was startled by the tears in her eyes. "And here I am in Manhattan, and I'm wearing clothes I bought at the hospital gift shop because I couldn't stand to leave this place in case you were going to check out on me." She crossed her arms over her chest then took in an unsteady breath and let it out slowly. "You bastard."

Neal still wasn't sure what precisely had happened, but Sara Ellis had crossed an ocean for him. She was standing next to him with messy hair and almost no makeup, wearing a grey hoodie with a cartoon character on it. "I love you too," he said.

Sara laughed wetly then put her hands over her face and pushed her hair back. "Do you know how close you came to being dead right now?"

"I'm thinking it was a little too close." Neal didn't feel prepared to think about it, so he took a shot at lightening the mood. "How do I know this isn't the afterlife?"

Sara shook her head. "If you were in heaven with me, I have to tell you I wouldn't be wearing a hoodie. And if you were in hell I don't think I'd be offering you ice water, would I?"

"Those are very good points." Every muscle in Neal's body felt spent and heavy, but he summoned enough strength to lift his hand and wrap his fingers around Sara's wrist where her hand rested on the bed rail. "Thank you for being here, since I bothered to stay alive and all."

She twisted her hand until her fingers gripped his. "I really didn't mean to care about you this much. I'd suspect you of conning me, except I've been away from you and your charm for six months now."

"It's been a long six months." Neal sighed and felt his eyelids getting heavier. He squeezed Sara's hand and forced his eyes open. "I think I'm gonna pass out. Will you be here?"

"What do you think?"

Neal thought that maybe Sara would be around a lot longer, that maybe he had a chance at a life with her after his time with the anklet was over. He let his eyes close, and as he drifted away he felt her hand in his hair, the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp. "Damn you," she whispered, and Neal took his contrary joy at that with him into his dreams.


End file.
